


You Can Run, But You Can't Hide

by CorellianSea



Series: Sith!Luke / Han solo AU [1]
Category: Star Wars Original Trilogy
Genre: Angst, Hiatus, Lukes in love with han, M/M, Sith!Luke, consensual sex for sure, han loves luke, luke is fucking bad ok, previously established relationship
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-14
Updated: 2016-02-14
Packaged: 2018-05-20 10:08:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,428
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6001984
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CorellianSea/pseuds/CorellianSea
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <span class="small">Han impatiently met Luke’s gaze, however, his instantaneous attempt in steeling his expression failed, making it that much more apparent that he was utterly taken aback from the image before him. He gave it his all, in the end, desperately wanting to seem completely unperturbed by how Luke’s eyes were no longer that beautiful crystal blue he fell in love with all those years ago. Han tried not to focus on how they were now a striking, vibrant yellow, sprinkled with flecks of the same crimson that ringed his eyes</span>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	You Can Run, But You Can't Hide

**Author's Note:**

> Whelp I did a thing

 

" _ Stop _ !" Han screamed, his lungs nearly gave out from the force he used in order to amplify his voice. "Stop it! Stop, why're you doing this? We can talk— we can fucking  _ talk _ ! We've already surrendered— so fucking  _ negotiate  _ with us already!"

Long legs scrambled to find purchase on duracrete flooring, proving it to be a fruitless effort to tuck himself even closer to the cargo boxes stacked rather haphazardly within Hoth’s hanger. The ex-smuggler swallowed an uncharacteristic sob that threatened to escape him, knowing exactly why his wishes were being ignored. Gloved hands shook while gripping his pistol and his whole being practically vibrated from the rush of adrenaline. This was no ordinary trooper invasion. This particular platoon was being led by a once familiar force in the galaxy, but now it forged itself a new name, for a new cause, and it was a force they didn't stand a chance against.

That even Han Solo didn't stand a chance against.

Han couldn't hate himself any more knowing that he was now solely responsible for the fall of the Rebel’s hanger on Hoth, all because he didn't want to be alone again, all because he wished to see at least one familiar face that wasn't illuminated on a holo transmission or a holocard.

A couple of shots fired near him, deafening Han's thoughts for a mere second before the sounds of blaster fire continued on quickly, unrelenting to get the base wiped clean of any ‘Rebel scum’. At this point, he began to wonder if their pleas for mercy were ever going to be heard, perhaps this was just a massacre to get this particular base he was visiting out of the damn way already. Maybe it didn't matter when it came to who was important in the war anymore, it wasn't impossible that politics were thrown out of the game by now. He didn't know what to think anymore, he didn't have the ability to keep up with the news of war since he had left. Han's heart raced wildly as he heard the shrieks and cries of his fellow men being brutally slain without mercy. Closing his eyes, he held his blaster close to his chest when he was sure there were only a couple of his own men left in the hanger with him, the rest, dead at the feet of a ferociously savage army.

"Where is he?"

Han froze in that instant, eyes as wide as they could possibly go while his breath slowed abruptly, stilling to a point where it probably didn't qualify as breathing anymore. This wasn't fear. This was now blatant desperation upon realizing who stood less than twenty feet away from him. " _ LUKE _ !" Han roared while throwing himself right into the line of fire, desperate to see the face of the man who started the war all over again. There was only a split second of regret that Han could process before realizing that he just threw everything he ever worked for into the wind. He just offered these bucket brains a chance at target practice, and the target was the infamous Han solo. Defeat was imminent when he saw the emperor's same snowmen raise their rifles almost instantly upon spotting him. Synchronized blaster shots roared all at once and not even a curse left him as he shut his eyes tight and moved to hold his blaster over his heart. His mind flashed with images of he and Luke, his thoughts finalizing—

_ Freedom... _

Han felt his heart thump rhythmically in his chest three more times after what he thought would be the last thing he’d ever see again, and another five passed before he dared to open his eyes. The display before him seemed to have ripped what lingering oxygen he had right out of him. More than a couple dozen, if not nearly a hundred blaster bolts hovered in front of him, dotting his vision and illuminating everything to the point where it was nearly blinding. It felt like a crimson jump into hyperspace. Han Solo shrank back in awe, nearly landing flat on the floor when he saw they were still vibrating excitedly, the plasma seemed to be barely controlled as it fuzzed before tightening again.

“Idiots.”

Han snapped his gaze a little to his left and tried to focus hard on the black figure standing next to the platoon. The red lighting was getting too intense for him to see properly, and as if his thoughts were being heard just then, the buzz from the shots grew loud enough to be deafening. On the other side of the hanger, Han knew that Luke was talking to them, shouting at them for whatever reason.

“S-Shit,” He cursed lowly when the bolts compressed inches away from his face, tightening to thin little rods before they were shot off into the distance, blasting a huge hole into the durasteel wall that the Rebels had painted their proud insignia on. In his stupor, Han didn’t even notice the platoon retreating much less hear their marching steps slowly fade into nothing. A single resounding click of a boot had his attention in a split second.

Han impatiently met Luke’s gaze, however, his instantaneous attempt in steeling his expression failed, making it that much more apparent that he was utterly taken aback at the image before him. He gave it his all, in the end, desperately wanting to seem completely unperturbed by how Luke’s eyes were no longer that beautiful crystal blue he fell in love with all those years ago. Han tried not to focus on how they were now a striking, vibrant yellow, sprinkled with flecks of the same crimson that ringed his eyes.  _ Sith eyes _ , he had heard them once be called. The red was highlighted by his paled skin and almost gaunt-like features; the older man’s expression contorted into something along the lines of sheer despair from the sight. The man he loved was reduced to— to  _ this _ .

The face of the Rebellion from a mere two years ago, the same face that brought hope, joy and freedom to the galaxy stood before him with a damned and hardened look.

The silence they shared seemed to be a challenge in itself as they were unable to break eye contact. Han lumped together all the courage he could manage to break the ice, and he had a good hunch that if he lived through this, he would regret ever asking.

Han Solo was sure he had never sounded so desperate from a single uttered word—

“But  _ why _ ?”

The question started out as a strangled sound of a broken man, unintelligible but comprehensible; Han was now a mangled shell of the proud Corellian he was once before. All the looks he had for show, every single emotion he had ever suppressed, every meticulously crafted mask he'd worn since the day he woke up without Luke by his side came tumbling down, ripped and shredded at his feet.

Luke twitched at the way his voice wavered, serving only to further validate the fact this was no longer the same Han Solo. The months he’d spent running, jumping planet to planet, refusing to endanger any more of the Rebel bases or  _ anyone _ , had run him thin down to the very core. Not only had he lost weight, his muscle mass added on and the brunette was cruelly bulking up from how he was always kept on the run. Always a bite to eat here, a drink to get there, never quite sitting down to eat a full meal for fear of being caught or recognized.

Hell, he had even stopped paying in Galactic credits and started working for meals instead. This way there would always be a guarantee that there would be no trail back to his person, not even a data trail, and no one else would be in danger for just having  _ interacted  _ with him. Han had learned the acrimonious way when a few family owned dives he’d frequented for some home cooked grub had been burned down not long after.

The first time it happened, Han didn’t find out until a week later. The public funerals were announced loudly in the city’s square and he didn't quite connect the dots until the second family business was rumored to have been interrogated by the Empire, and soon enough, it too was burned down to the ground. The man never felt so hopeless in his life when he carried a newly orphaned child he had only talked to the day before with her father. He had carelessly ruffled her soft brown hair on his way out of the diner with a ghost of a half-grin, a hand shot up in the air to wave goodbye and now he was on his way to the nearest law enforcement official to tell them she no longer had a family. Solo ran away from that remote city with his tail between his legs and guilt ate him alive as he created the newest addition of rules to add to his ever-growing list in order to keep innocent people alive.

_ He couldn't stay in a city for more than a week. _

The more time that went by, the standard rule of seven days per city, planet, region or wherever he was staying at began to decrease drastically as Luke increased his efforts to find Han Solo.

The galaxy was enormous, never-ending almost, but the amount of times that Han thought there would be nowhere else left to run in the galaxy grew ever foreboding in the back of his mind. Too many months to count on one hand had passed since he had last seen Chewie, and much to the Wookie's constant protest every time they met, he would continually ignore the way Chewbacca would repeat that they would be much safer if they worked together; Han knew he couldn’t even consider the tempting offers any longer when they had a chance to rendezvous again. No, not after what had happened just within the second month he was put on the galaxy’s ‘ _ most wanted _ ’ list by the Empire.

The ex-smuggler even handed over the Millennium Falcon to his best friend, telling him to keep the dust off his baby in the meantime and promising he would be back for it. Solo shot a familiar smirk at him and then winced from how loud Chewbacca’s enraged roar was even after he told him to quiet down or else they’d be spotted.

Sometimes it sounded about as bad one of Leia’s more long-winded lectures he had successfully received during the third month of his understandable desertion of the Rebel Alliance. She had heatedly called him out on his ‘selfish’ decisions on how he was handling the situation and openly begged him to come back into the arms of an army that willingly wanted to protect their beloved general. Months passed and Leia stopped trying to him back altogether, instead opting for location reports so she could send him supplies and credits. It helped for only so long, but the data trails would surely doom him.

Han reluctantly stopped answering any transmissions that came from the Alliance, and could feel his heart split when her shattered voice asked him if he were to ever return home, and if the people she loved would ever stop leaving her. Han smashed his only comlink that night. Her transmission had reached him by the eighth month and he listened to it only because he craved hearing any voice that was one he could recognize. Now, on his fifteenth month of being on the run, he was sure that Leia no longer knew if he were to be dead or alive. He was finally going to check in after so long, and he was ready to accept the help they offered since the start of it all .

He regretted it.   


Han regretted giving into even the smallest initial consideration of visiting a Rebel base when twelve months had passed, marking a year of solitary life of being on the run.

"I'll go, I won't run anymore. I'll go with you, Luke."

Not bothering to even say anything else, the brunette stood a little more straight before taking a single step forward as if to offer himself up for the taking, clearly unable to cope with the guilt from his rapidly occurring thoughts. Han was silently hysterical. It took him a whole year and five months before Luke had him now, and he’d willingly given himself up.

With a single snap of Luke's fingers, the armored troops seemed to have appeared from thin air to grab at him and fold his arms back roughly. No protest escaped him as they constrained the man tightly in place, even going as far as to force him upright as Luke took slow steps up to him. Those golden red eyes raked over his straining form, hungry and impatient.

"You ran so far, Han."

Han nodded once, a quick bob of his head before he swallowed nervously, "W-what? Did'ja miss me?" He sniffed with a nervous smile, but it melted off his face from the lack of response. His uncertainty was acutely palpable.

 

"For such a long time— you could have kept running." Han shivered when Luke leaned in and ducked his head to the side to brush his cold lips against his stubbly cheek. The shiver turned into a violent, full-body shudder and he couldn't decipher whether it was from stark fear or arousal knowing that Luke was so close to him again. "But you  _ hid _ — you can't hide from me, you can't hide from someone who  _ loves  _ you."

"Spare the rest of this base," the brunette had said suddenly and desperately, practically interrupting the Sith in his attempt to at least redeem himself a little. The sideways glare that Luke shot him left him breathless. " _ Please _ , Luke. Just spare them. I'm going with you, I'll be with you now. Just don't... Just don't  _ kill  _ any more people, Luke."

Han Solo presented himself to the freshly born, full-fledged Sith as a crushed and crippled man who had little desires left in life. His spirit was clearly nothing short of demolished, and he rose with some difficulty from being held with a death grip. He continued to struggle against the men until he could stand somewhat parallel with not just the man he was still deeply in love with after all this time, but with the man everyone in the galaxy now feared as  _ Darth Arcanis. _

 

**Author's Note:**

> This has one more chapter and THAT'S IT AYE. I will probably make a series out of this universe tho bc I love sith luke and I die a little without it everyday   
>  Thanks for reading guys. Comments and kudos give me life.


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